


I'm not worth your worries/so please, don't waste it on me

by Talvenhenki



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Loneliness, Panic Attacks, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvenhenki/pseuds/Talvenhenki
Summary: Lancelot likes to insist that he is alright, but the others disagree with him.or5 times Lancelot insisted that he was fine + the 1 time he couldn't (+the time when he asked for help)
Relationships: Elyan & Lancelot (Merlin), Lancelot & Leon (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot & Percival (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Gwaine's banishment. I just like the idea of these two meeting outside of Merlin's knowledge.

Gwaine had never been good at keeping out of everyone else’s business. So, it was natural to get invested when a good-looking traveller walked up to the innkeeper to ask for a room, only to be directed into the stables because every room in the inn was already taken. Before the stranger could leave, however, Gwaine had walked up to him.

“I can share my room with you if we share the expenses”, Gwaine suggested. The handsome stranger looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, but after a moment, he nodded.

“That’s a deal”, he said, “but only if there are two separate beds.”

“You bet there is”, Gwaine said, grinning, “I got the last available room.”

The stranger nodded, and Gwaine led him back to the innkeeper to explain that they would share the room and thus, share the expenses as well. As they talked with the woman, Gwaine learnt that the handsome stranger was called Lancelot. Lancelot…the name sounded oddly familiar.

“I’m Gwaine”, Gwaine said when Lancelot was sat down with a bowl full of stew, “where are you coming from?”

“I spent some time up north”, Lancelot explained, “but soon I must go to the west. I’m not allowed in Camelot.”

“Neither am I”, Gwaine said, laughing, “in fact, I was just banished a week or so ago.”

Lancelot raised his eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Attacked some people who tried to kill my buddy Merlin who tried to save the prince from getting killed”, Gwaine explained, “ _again_. Seems like the about everyone in the kingdom wants to kill the poor prince.”

“You know Merlin?”

There was a surprised fondness to Lancelot’s voice which, in turn, surprised Gwaine. Merlin was nice to about everyone he met, but the fact that Gwaine had managed to meet a friend of Merlin’s outside of Camelot…it was odd.

“I do”, Gwaine said, “he helped me when I got injured in a bar fight. You?”

“He saved me after a griffin injured me”, Lancelot explained, smiling. “Then he proceeded to give me a false identity so I could become a knight. I was banished for lying to the king.”

Gwaine gaped. “Well. That sounds like something Merlin would do. Did you meet any of the others? Gaius? Guinevere?”

Lancelot’s expression turned melancholy. He sighed, staring into his stew. “Yes”, he breathed, “I met them. I loved – _love_ – Guinevere. But I think she’s chosen the prince. So, that’s the end of that story.”

“Oh, boy”, Gwaine muttered, “you’re not such a lucky chap, are you? What does she even see in the prince?”

“His loyalty?” Lancelot guessed. “And maybe his honour too. He seems like one of those hard-headed fools that only care about themselves and not the others, but he’s more than that. Underneath it all, he’s a good man who cares for all his subjects. Even the poor and down-trodden.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes. Yeah, Arthur seemed like an ass because he was one! He treated Merlin horribly and made Merlin clean up all the messes instead of taking care of them himself like a good prince should.

“I’ve got to disagree with you”, Gwaine said, “because I don’t see much kindness or goodness in him. He’s just like the rest of the royalty.”

“You don’t like royalty?”

Gwaine shook his head. “I’ve got some grudges. How come you don’t? You were lucky enough to become a knight and then Uther banished you, and for what? Because you wanted to serve under him? Why did you even bother?”

“It was a life-long dream”, Lancelot said, “but it will never happen. Only nobles can be knights. Maybe it’s for the best.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes again. “Nah, you’re just lucky you won’t have to serve under Uther. Maybe Arthur will accept you when it’s his time to be the king. He’d better, because otherwise I’ll give him hell.”

“Why’d you do that?” Lancelot asked.

“Because disrespecting people who want to serve under him makes me mad”, Gwaine declared, “and since we’re friends now, I’m making your business mine. He’d better make you a knight.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine”, Lancelot said, chuckling, “you shouldn’t get in any more trouble; otherwise, I might have to smuggle you out of the dungeons. But, then again, Merlin would be up to it, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, he would. He definitely would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toss a comment to your author!


	2. Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the fight in season 3 finale; Lancelot is wounded but insists that he is fine, as always.

“Ah!” Lancelot breathed as Merlin lifted him up. “I’m fine, Merlin.”

“The hell you are”, Merlin muttered, “you’re wounded, remember? You aren’t _fine_.”

Lancelot wanted to disagree but bit his tongue. The trek to Gaius’ chambers, where Lancelot could be looked after, was long and more painful than Lancelot wanted to admit. He bit his lip, until he drew blood, and then he tried to breathe the pain away with only little success. He wished the trek would be over at every step he took, but he also knew he would be in worse pain when Gaius got to his wound.

They eventually reached Gaius’ chambers and saw that Gaius was already there, treating others who were injured. Most of them had just cuts and bruises, though, which were quickly dealt with.

When Gaius got to Lancelot, the others had left the chambers and Merlin shut the door. He knew well enough that Lancelot didn’t want others to see him in pain or weak.

“Can you help me with the chainmail, Merlin?” Gaius asked. Lancelot had unstrapped his belt, but he was in too much pain to actually lift the chainmail off by himself.

Lifting off the chainmail and then taking off Lancelot’s shirt, Merlin gasped. Lancelot’s skin was littered with scars, more than Merlin had seen any man bear. Some of the wounds had clearly healed wrong, and some had jagged edges.

As Gaius began to treat Lancelot’s newest wound, Merlin rounded the bench to kneel in front of Lancelot. “What’s happened to you?” Merlin asked. “Where are all those scars from? Who did this to you?”

Lancelot grimaced. “Remember that time I was a fighter in that one castle? It wasn’t the only place where I had to resort to cage-fighting. I’ve been a mercenary too. When you do such things, you can’t show weakness to anyone.”

“That’s horrible”, Merlin breathed, “does that mean you took care of all those wounds yourself?”

Lancelot nodded. “Not a pretty sight, is it?”

“No, it is not”, Gaius declared from behind Lancelot, “but you’ve made it back to us alive, so I shall not comment on it any further. If you want, I have a salve that can heal recent scars faster, though I can tell that most of these are far too old.”

“Thank you”, Lancelot breathed.

“Now, Merlin, I need some bandages”, Gaius said, “grab them from the table, will you?”

Merlin did as asked and Gaius could begin to dress Lancelot’s wound. Merlin sat on the bench next to Lancelot who was gripping the edge of the wood. Anyone with eyes could tell that Lancelot was in pain but he chose not to speak of it.

“Can I do anything to help?” Merlin asked.

“I’m fine”, Lancelot breathed, “but thank you. I can handle this.”

“And you’ll stay here for the night”, Gaius said, “that is an order. You and Merlin can share the bed. We must make sure that your wound won’t get infected and making you stay in a room halfway across the castle would be dangerous.”

Lancelot exhaled deeply and nodded. Merlin covered his hand and slowly Lancelot let go of the edge of the bench they were sitting on. Squeezing Lancelot’s fingers, Merlin tried to show whatever little support he could give Lancelot.

“There”, Gaius said, having finished dressing Lancelot’s wound, “now, put on that shirt of yours and make yourself home. I’ll go see if anyone else needs help around the castle. It’ll be a few days until we get things back on track, I’m afraid.”

“Better than that living under Morgana’s rule”, Merlin decided.

Lancelot gave Merlin an exhausted smile and leaned his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Gaius left the chambers, leaving the two friends alone. Lancelot’s shirt was still open; he barely had the energy to sit upright so how would he close his shirt?

“Do you want anything to eat?” Merlin asked softly. “Or do you just want to rest?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I’ll be moving around anytime soon”, Lancelot confessed, “I simply don’t have the energy.”

“Let’s stay here, then”, Merlin said, “I doubt that Arthur will need me anytime soon. And even if he did, he’d understand me wanting to help you instead of him.”

“Thank you”, Lancelot breathed, “thank you, Merlin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments will be much appreciated!


	3. Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between seasons 3 & 4 like the rest of the chapters! Percival is a sweetheart and I love him, ok

Percival was enjoying a peaceful evening off by doing some maintenance on his armour and weapons. He hadn’t had much time to do so recently, having become a knight and all that. If he were to be completely honest, he had been a little bit worried for his sword; having so much grime on it surely couldn’t be good. And the blood. Oh, the blood was _damaging_ the blade! Percival hated having blood on his sword for too long – getting it all off was such a difficult task once it had dried.

Having fallen into his thoughts, Percival’s shoulders jolted up when his door opened. He had left it unlocked since some of the others often sought his company. Gwaine, especially, had spent a lot of time around Percival, as of late.

Instead of Gwaine, however, it was Lancelot who entered the room.

“What on Earth?” Percival asked. “What are you doing here?”

Lancelot was swaying, and he smelled a bit like ale. He’d been drinking with the others, Percival realised. For a few moments, Lancelot looked around the room, confused, before his eyes landed on Percival.

“Wrong room”, Lancelot said, and then smiled. “You won’t mind if I stay here for a bit? I’m feeling a bit woozy.”

As if to stress his words, Lancelot toppled over. Percival was not sure how to react, but he decided to help Lancelot up on the other chair that had been discarded near the fireplace – Percival often lit the fire when he had company.

“How much ale did you have?” Percival asked, shaking his head.

“A lot”, Lancelot confessed, “Gwaine challenged me to see who can drink more. I lost.”

Percival shook his head. It was unlike Lancelot to lose himself into the ale, even if others tried to challenge him. Percival had come to know Lancelot as someone who was responsible and careful, not as someone who accepted Gwaine’s challenges and drunk too much.

“Is everything alright?” Percival asked. “You don’t seem too good right now.”

“I’m fine”, Lancelot said, “just need to sit down for a bit.”

Percival sighed. “How about I get us some water to drink? You look like you could use some.”

“That would be much appreciated”, Lancelot said, smiling. Even drunk, he had that mischievous smile that could pierce through any heart, including Percival’s.

Nodding, Percival stood up and left the room. He took the short way to the water fountain where he could fill the pitcher he kept in his room. Luckily, he didn’t run into anyone who would try to have a conversation with him. He didn’t want to leave Lancelot alone for too long, knowing that Lancelot was a trouble-magnet when drunk. With any luck, Lancelot would not attempt to move, but Percival didn’t want to trust that.

Returning to his chamber, he found Lancelot sitting on the floor, staring into the fireplace. He looked tired, and almost enchanted by whatever he saw in there.

“See anything interesting?” Percival asked. Lancelot’s shoulders jolted up and he turned around, smiling. Percival poured some of the water into a glass for Lancelot and handed it over to him. Lancelot drank some, almost greedily.

“The age of the castle”, Lancelot said softly, “it’s much older than the small house I lived in as a boy. It’s intriguing.”

Percival nodded. “Quite right. I don’t think us peasants ever got to see a castle this old before coming here.”

“I like it, though”, Lancelot whispered, “it feels mysterious.”

“At least if you’re not afraid of the dark”, Percival agreed, “are you?”

Lancelot shook his head. “Not of the dark. Loneliness, sometimes, and abandonment, but not the dark. In fact, I feel quite safe in the dark where no one can see my true self.”

“Why, is your true self something to be ashamed of?” Percival asked.

Lancelot closed his eyes. Had Percival overstepped his boundaries? “I am not ashamed of myself”, Lancelot said, his voice thin and weary, “but I don’t want others to see who I am, sometimes. Sometimes my true self is too painful, kind of like a wounded animal. Sometimes I remember all the pain I’ve carried throughout my life. Don’t you?”

Percival shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with my past”, he explained, “of course, it still makes me sad to remember those who have died, but I believe that they’re somewhere better now.”

“In that case, you’re a stronger man than I”, Lancelot said, drinking some of the water.

“Not necessarily”, Percival mused, “we just deal with our grief in a different manner, you and I.”

Smiling a melancholy smile, Lancelot finished his glass of water and nodded at Percival. Percival sat down next to him, bumping their shoulders together like he had used to during their travels together.

“You’re not so fine, are you?” Percival asked softly.

“I am”, Lancelot insisted, “I am also a fool who got drunk.”

Well. That, Percival could work with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments warm my soul!


	4. Four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elyan deserves more love. I shall give it to him.

Lancelot groaned. It had been supposed to be a simple enough patrol around the castle. With Elyan, Lancelot had been ordered to see if there were any traces of people camping nearby – there had been robberies in the lower town, but no one had recognised the culprits. Some people even said that the people had been speaking a foreign language with each other. Just a simple scouting mission to see if the robbers were still in the area.

Of course, the mission only stayed simple for around ten minutes, until the ground under Lancelot disappeared and he toppled down a good ten feet or so.

“Shoot!” Elyan cursed. “Are you alright, Lancelot?”

Elyan, agile as he was, rushed down to Lancelot’s side to check on his friend. Reaching Lancelot, he immediately realised that Lancelot was not alright. His right hand was in an unnatural angle and there was a grimace of pain on his face. Not that he would ever admit not being alright.

“I – I’m fine”, Lancelot breathed, “it’s not bad.”

“Lancelot, you have a broken wrist!” Elyan argued. “You can’t be fine with a broken wrist. Let me help you.”

Elyan helped Lancelot to sit up. When Lancelot tried to lift his right arm, his hand hung downwards, which confirmed Elyan’s fear. Lancelot had gotten hurt again, this time away from Gaius and his physician’s knowledge.

“Wait here”, Elyan said softly, “I’ll find us something to splint your wrist. Then we’ll return to the citadel. I just hope Gaius won’t get too mad at my terrible bandaging skills.”

“I doubt he will”, Lancelot replied, his voice laced with pain, “since your bandages are always the best I’ve had. It’s Gwaine whose bandages need some work.”

Laughing, Elyan rolled his eyes. He was glad that Lancelot was well enough to make jokes – it meant that he hadn’t hit his head going down. But, then again, joking was one of Lancelot’s defence mechanisms. He always tried to make the others laugh to mask his own pain.

Soon enough, Elyan found a good tree branch. He rushed back to Lancelot and cut the branch in two to splint both sides of Lancelot’s wrist. Ripping off a piece of his tunic – it needed replacing, anyway – Elyan made a makeshift bandage and helped Lancelot to stand up.

“Think you’ll be able to walk all the way back to the citadel?” Elyan asked. “It’s not too long of a walk, but in case anything else is broken –”

“I’ll be fine”, Lancelot breathed, “I promise. Nothing else is hurt.”

“Good. Thanks for letting me help you.”

Lancelot nodded but remained quiet. He was cradling his injured hand against his chest as he walked, as if to keep it from getting injured any further. Elyan was walking a few steps ahead, scouting the way.

They had only walked for a few minutes when Lancelot grabbed Elyan’s arm. Shushing him, Lancelot nodded his head slightly to the side, signalling something to Elyan. For a moment, Elyan wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he heard it too.

There were people conversing in a foreign language. A smile spread on Elyan’s face when he understood that they had found the bandits they had been sent to look for.

“Good job”, Elyan whispered, “I’ll relay the news to Arthur as soon as I get you to Gaius.”

Lancelot nodded. “That’s a sound plan. Let’s go?”

Elyan couldn’t agree more. Silently, the two made their way back to the citadel. First, Elyan would take Lancelot to see Gaius – he didn’t trust Lancelot to handle his injure alone – and then he could report to Arthur. With any luck, the robbers could be caught by the end of the day. All thanks to Lancelot’s amazing hearing and his ability to listen to multiple things at once.

Elyan was almost happy about the outcome of the patrol, even though he did feel sorry for Lancelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, thoughts, anything? Write those things below ;)


	5. Five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with a raided village and will be closely related to the next two chapters. Lancelot will most certainly not be ok.

The sight was absolutely horrible. Some locals from the outlying villages had come to Arthur bearing news about raided villages, and Arthur had decided to investigate. Taking his most trusted knights – Leon, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine – along with Merlin to see what was happening, they’d reached the first raided village.

The first thing they noticed was the stench. The raid had been recent, but there were a lot of dead bodies. Some wild animals had already found their way into the village and were eating the corpses. Gwaine and Elyan chased them away so that they could investigate what had happened.

That was when Lancelot heard the sobbing. Following the noise, he reached a pile of hay – terribly similar to the pile he’d hidden under when his village had been raided – and knelt to investigate. Brushing some of the hay away, he saw that a boy was under the pile.

“Hey”, Lancelot breathed, “it’s alright. I’m from Camelot. I’m here to help.”

As the boy climbed out of the pile of hay, Leon rounded a corner. Picking the boy up, Lancelot carried him to Leon who seemed rather shocked. One look at Leon’s eyes was enough for Lancelot to find out that Leon had been looking for him. Perhaps the sight of the raided village had reminded Leon of Lancelot’s past, of having lost his family in a hauntingly similar way.

“He was hiding under the hay”, Lancelot said, “must have been there ever since the killing started.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll tell Arthur.”

As Leon rushed away, the little boy began to cry. Lancelot felt oddly empty as he tried to comfort the boy. He gently patted the boy’s back, much like his own mother had used to. Perhaps the emptiness that he felt was visible in Lancelot’s expression, because when the others rushed to him, they looked incredibly sad. Percival gently bumped Lancelot’s shoulder as a way of showing support.

“Do you know what happened?” Arthur asked.

Lancelot shook his head. “We should let the poor boy calm down first. Maybe get him some food too. I don’t think he’s eaten anything since the attack.”

“Right”, Arthur said, nodding, “we should make camp. Which is his house?”

“Hey”, Lancelot whispered to the boy, “can you tell me which of the houses you lived in? Was it the one behind the pile of hay?”

The boy nodded, still sobbing. Stroking his hair, Lancelot thanked him softly. He then led the others to the house but asked them to check that there were no bodies before bringing the little boy inside. Merlin had made a fire and the house almost seemed cosy until you remembered what had happened outside.

When Lancelot tried to place the boy on the bench near the fireplace, the boy resisted. He locked his arms around Lancelot’s neck in a hopeless attempt to not be let down. It was as if Lancelot was the boy’s last lifeline before an imminent collapse. Lancelot quickly stood back up, holding the boy close.

“Don’t worry”, he breathed, “I won’t leave you alone. You won’t have to be alone. I promise.”

Meanwhile, Merlin and Elyan were making some sort of a stew over the fire. There had been some dried meat and vegetables in the house and Gwaine had found a well and some herbs. It probably would not be what the little boy had been used to, but at least he could get some strength from the food.

Eventually the little boy’s sobs died down and he allowed Lancelot to place him on the bench by the fireplace. Elyan gave him a bowl of the stew he’d made with Merlin, and the boy began eating it. He clearly had been hungry, judging from the way he almost inhaled the stew.

“I know this must be terrible for you”, Arthur said as the boy ate, “but is there anything you can tell us about the attack on this village? Any detail you remember, it might be important. We want to catch the people who did this to your village.”

The boy stared at Arthur for a moment. “Are you a knight?” he asked.

“He’s the prince”, Lancelot explained, “the rest of us are knights. We heard about the raids that were happening and came to investigate. I only wish we could have prevented the last one from happening…”

Arthur nodded. “He’s telling the truth. I’m prince Arthur, and these are my knights. We want to catch the raiders who attack the villages.”

“Ma was telling the truth”, the boy whispered, “the prince really is a good person.”

Arthur was taken aback by the boy’s words, which made Merlin laugh at him. The other knights – except for Lancelot – smiled as well and the overall atmosphere of the room became warmer.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asked, smiling. “I’m Merlin, and the man who found you is Lancelot.”

“I’m Morris”, the boy said, “my father is a farmer. We were coming home from the fields when the men attacked. Da told me to hide under the hay and he went to fight the men. That was yesterday. The men left this morning, only a little before you came here. They were planning to go to the next village that’s half a day’s ride east from here. I think they said something about waiting for a few days before attacking.”

Arthur nodded. “That’s a lot of information. Thank you, Morris. If we’re lucky, we might be able to catch the men soon.”

Merlin looked up, frowning. “Are you saying we’re going to leave? What about Morris?”

“You’ll stay with him”, Arthur decided, “the rest of us will go catch the men.”

Lancelot suddenly felt very alert. It was as if he could sense that something bad would happen by the time they’d catch the men who attacked the village. Feeling eerily like he felt before an important battle – like the time he and Merlin had fought Morgana’s immortal army – he stood up, trying to gather the courage and the willpower he would need to fight the men who took Morris’ home away from him.

Stepping outside, Lancelot was suddenly stopped by Leon. Looking his friend in the eye, Lancelot knew instantly that Leon was worried.

“Are you alright?” Leon asked softly. “If this brings back too many memories, I’m sure I can get Arthur to let you stay with Merlin and Morris…”

“I’m fine, Leon”, Lancelot breathed, “just _fine_. There’s no need to give me any special treatment.”

With that, Lancelot followed the others to their horses, so they could ride to battle.


	6. +1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot is not okay, Leon helps. Includes a panic attack of sorts.

When the fight was over, and the men captured, there was one blissful moment of calmness when everything seemed to be good again. Peace was restored to the outlying villages of Camelot as the raiders were captured. No one else would have to die because of them.

Then Lancelot spiralled.

As Leon approached him, he suddenly turned around and threw up. He was shaking from head to toe, which Leon had never seen him do. Whatever memories the raided village had brought up in Lancelot, they had to be bad. Leon didn’t know what to do to help Lancelot; he had never seen anyone react to anything like that.

“Aw, is the little knight afraid of blood?” the leader of the bandits taunted, laughing at Lancelot’s reaction. “Should have stayed in the castle.”

Anger flashed in Lancelot’s eyes and he tried to surge at the man. Leon stopped him by placing his left hand on Lancelot’s chest, pressing only a little. Even through the chainmail, Leon could feel the thumping of Lancelot’s heart and his laboured breaths as he tried to gather himself.

“You’re a dead man”, Lancelot spat out, “and if it were my choice, you would die here and now.”

“Easy, Lancelot”, Leon whispered, “try to calm down. I’ll handle this, okay?”

Leaving Lancelot alone a few feet away from the others, Leon made his way to Arthur. “Will you be able to spare me and Lancelot?” Leon asked. “We’ll go to the village and fetch Merlin and Morris. Will the four of you be able to transport the prisoners back to the city?”

Arthur nodded. “We’ll ride through the night. Lancelot looks like he could use the time off.”

“Thank you”, Leon whispered. “If you wait here, I can fetch you a cart from the village so you can transport the prisoners to the city that way.”

“Good idea.”

Leon returned to Lancelot who was now trembling violently. He guided Lancelot to their horses and helped Lancelot mount his ride. It was lucky that Lancelot’s horse was a clever mare who could instantly tell that something was off, because Leon would not have known how to get Lancelot back to the village otherwise. He was unresponsive the whole time they rode back, even though Leon was trying to chat the sour mood away. Only when the outline of the village came to sight did Lancelot become alert once again.

“I’ll go fetch a cart for Arthur”, Leon said as he and Lancelot dismounted, “you should wait here with Merlin and Morris. I won’t be gone for long.”

Lancelot nodded and walked over to Morris’ house. Meanwhile, Leon hurried to look for a cart he could bring to Arthur and the others to transport the prisoners. He didn’t want to leave Lancelot for too long, especially since Lancelot was, as far as Leon could imagine, only playing strong for Morris. Perhaps Lancelot was seeing himself in the boy who had lost his village in the same way Lancelot had. Perhaps he felt like he needed to give the boy something he himself had not been given.

These thoughts plagued Leon the whole time he was transporting the carriage to Arthur and the others and then rushing back to Lancelot. He worried for his friend, and after the reaction he’d witnessed Lancelot having, he felt like he was right to worry.

Lancelot had not been himself since they’d arrived in that raided village.

Urging his horse, Leon rushed through the forest. There was dread in his stomach as he thought of the way Lancelot had shook. The way his heart had thundered through the chainmail made Leon feel somewhat sick, as he knew that Lancelot was not one for emotional outbursts, least of all those that made him physically agitated. Lancelot was level-headed to a fault; Leon had never even once seen the man get truly angry. He could only hope that Lancelot would never have to cross paths with the man who had taunted him, because otherwise the man would not live long.

Arriving back to the raided village, Leon saw Merlin squatting right outside of Morris’ house. As Leon dismounted, Merlin stood up and walked over to Leon, shaking his head.

“He doesn’t eat”, Merlin said, “I offered him the stew half a dozen times, but he kept refusing. Morris fell asleep on his lap.”

Leon sighed. “He reacted badly after we caught the men. Threw up. Never seen him react to anything like that.”

Merlin nodded. If there was one thing he and Leon could agree upon, it was the fact that Lancelot never, ever showed any negative emotion. If he ever felt any, he simply refused to act on it. Lancelot kept his innermost feelings so close to his heart that no one could ever see them.

If Lancelot could, he would simply not let the outside world see his moods.

Entering the little house, Leon saw that Morris was still sleeping. Lancelot had made his cloak into a blanket for the boy and was stroking his hair. On his face, Lancelot wore an expression softer than any Leon had ever seen.

“We should…we should leave”, Leon said softly. Lancelot looked up at him, eyes weary. “The prince and the other are on their way back to Camelot. What should we do with the little boy?”

“He needs a place to stay in”, Lancelot breathed, “perhaps relatives…Or we could take him to the city and see if he could get an apprenticeship.”

Leon knelt down in front of Lancelot. “An apprenticeship sounds like a good idea. We should wake him.”

Lancelot nodded. He shook the boy’s shoulders gently, until Morris woke up. The boy looked confused at first, but when his eyes found Lancelot, his expression became incredibly sad. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I hoped it had been a nightmare”, Morris said, looking down at his knees.

“I know”, Lancelot whispered, “I wish I could make it so.”

Leon cleared his throat. “Morris”, he said, “do you have any family left who could look after you?”

The boy shook his head. “Ma and da had no siblings. I was the only child, and I have no grandparents. Our only friends were in this village. I’ve never been to anywhere else.”

Leon sighed, shaking his head. “We can’t leave you here all alone”, he explained, “which means we’ll be taking you back to Camelot with us. We’ll find you an apprenticeship, something that’ll teach you a trade. I reckon the carpenter in the upper town is in need of an apprentice boy.”

Morris nodded eagerly. “I’ll be a good apprentice.”

Leon smiled and stood up. Taking Morris’ hand, he led the boy outside to the horses. He helped Morris up on his mare and mounted as well, followed by Merlin and Lancelot. As they rode out of the village, only Leon and Morris were talking. Lancelot had fallen back to his thoughts and Merlin was busy making sure that Lancelot’s horse would not stray from the road. Lancelot wasn’t steering the horse at all, but luckily she was a wise beast who knew to follow Leon and his horse.

They could only travel for a short while until the sun began to set and they had to make camp. Merlin went to find some firewood while Leon hunted down some rabbits for dinner. Lancelot and Morris opened a few bedrolls while waiting for the others.

When Leon returned, Lancelot was humming something to Morris who was on one of the bedrolls. Lancelot had used his cloak to make a makeshift blanket for the boy who seemed rather content, considering what he had gone through.

“Everything alright?” Leon asked as he began to skin the rabbits. Lancelot looked at him, trying to smile, but only managing to quirk one corner of his mouth. That was worrying. Lancelot usually insisted on being fine, even when he was clearly not. If he couldn’t do even that, things were terribly wrong.

After a quick dinner – fried rabbit, courtesy of Merlin – everyone went to sleep. Except for Lancelot, who had decided to take the first watch. Leon suspected that Lancelot didn’t want to sleep, not after having seen the destroyed village.

Leon waited until he was sure that Merlin and Morris, who were sleeping next to each other, were fully asleep. He then opened his eyes again and scanned their camp until he saw Lancelot. He was huddled against a tree, trembling violently.

Scrambling up, Leon rushed to Lancelot. He caught Lancelot in an embrace, unsure of what to do.

“I’ve got you”, he whispered, “I’ve got you, Lancelot. You’re safe. It wasn’t your village.”

A shiver ran through Lancelot. He was gasping for breath, leaning his forehead on Leon’s shoulder. Leon placed his hand over Lancelot’s neck, remembering how people often comforted others with a similar gesture. He could feel every breath Lancelot struggled to take, every moment of his despair.

Suddenly Lancelot pulled away to lean sideways and gagged. Nothing came up, except for a bit of bile, because he hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. He had refused Merlin’s rabbit, perhaps because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it inside.

When Lancelot had his breathing somewhat under control, Leon helped him stand up. Together, they walked closer to the camp and their sleeping companions.

“I’ve got you, Lancelot”, Leon said softly, “I’m right here.”

Sitting down, Lancelot leaned heavily on Leon. He was still shaking, but not as violently as he had shaken before. Resting his head on Leon’s shoulder, Lancelot allowed Leon to wrap his cloak over Lancelot’s shoulders, like one would wrap a blanket.

“I don’t feel real”, Lancelot breathed, “I keep thinking about the village and when I look around, it feels like there’s a barrier between me and the world.”

Leon’s heart broke. He had never heard anyone describe such a feeling, much less felt it himself. What Lancelot was feeling, it could not be just regular grief over another massacred village. No, it was something Lancelot had lived through once, something that still haunted to him, even when he pulled a brave face about it.

“It reminded you of your village, didn’t it?”

Lancelot nodded. Not just once or twice; he kept nodding for a while until Leon squeezed his fingers. Maybe the physical sensation of touching something was what Lancelot needed. If he felt unreal, the physical touch could possibly diminish that feeling.

Leon pressed one hand against Lancelot’s head and began combing his fingers through Lancelot’s wild curls. Lancelot let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

“I can’t bring back your village”, Leon whispered, “or Morris’, to that matter. But I promise that we’ll find Morris a good home. Arthur will bring those bandits to justice. We can’t always save everyone, but at least we can help one little boy rebuild his life. For me, that’s enough.”

“I know”, Lancelot breathed weakly, “but I keep wishing I could have changed the outcome…that even one more person would have survived.”

Leon squeezed Lancelot’s shoulders. He didn’t know if Lancelot was talking about his own village or Morris’ – not that it mattered much. Both villages were gone and forgotten, already being claimed by nature as far as Leon knew. The people of Morris’ village had at least got a burial of sorts, as Merlin had buried most of the dead who had been left out while Morris had slept in his house. Leon didn’t know what had happened to Lancelot’s village.

“You should rest”, Leon said quietly, “I’ll keep guard. If you have nightmares, I promise to wake you.”

Lancelot swallowed. “I’ll try. Thank you, Leon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comint?


	7. (+1½)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations! You have reached the last chapter and Lancelot will get his friends' help! Deals with insomnia & lack of self-worth.

Lancelot braced himself before he knocked on Gaius’ door. He was there to get his medicine, which Gaius had prepared for him; that was what one usually did by the court physician’s chambers, no? Lancelot felt extremely uncomfortable, but not as much as he’d felt a day earlier when he’d gone to see Gaius to ask him to make Lancelot a potion.

 _“A sleeping potion, Lancelot?”_ Gaius had asked. _“Are you having trouble falling asleep, or are you having nightmares?”_

 _“Uh…both, actually”_ , Lancelot had admitted uncomfortably, _“I can’t seem to fall asleep, and when I eventually do, I have terrible nightmares.”_

 _“I see”_ , Gaius had said, _“I’ll have one ready tomorrow afternoon. Come by sometime after lunch and I’ll give it to you.”_

And so, there Lancelot was, trying to find the courage to knock on the court physician’s door. Closing his eyes and inhaling, Lancelot knocked. There. It was done. Someone would answer the door and Lancelot would get his potion and he wouldn’t have to feel so damn _weak_ for needing one.

The door opened to reveal Merlin’s face. “Oh, hi”, he said, “were you looking for Gaius? I’m sorry but he’s out delivering something. He’ll be back soon, though, so you can come in and wait for him here.”

Lancelot’s face fell. Merlin knew his way around Gaius’ chambers but if he was inviting Lancelot in to wait for Gaius, that surely meant he didn’t know about Lancelot’s potion. Perhaps Gaius had, in his infinite wisdom, decided not to share Lancelot’s burden with Merlin, for which Lancelot silently thanked Gaius.

“Sure”, Lancelot breathed, “did he mention I might be coming over?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. Is there something you need his help for? Can I do anything to help?”

Lancelot sighed. “Unless you know where Gaius has put my sleeping potion, no. Your magic doesn’t give you the ability to find it, no?”

Merlin grimaced. “No, unless I know precisely what’s in it”, he explained, “but I don’t. Gaius didn’t even tell me that he was making one for you. Is everything alright? If there’s anything weighing on your mind, I can try to help, you know.”

“Thank you, but no”, Lancelot said.

It was a relief, sort of, to find that Gaius had not told Merlin about Lancelot’s difficulty sleeping. It wasn’t like Gaius had any obligation to keep his patients’ problems a secret. The castle thrived on gossip and everyone knew everyone’s health issues, to say the least.

“You know, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it”, Merlin said, almost as if he’d known Lancelot’s thoughts.

“I mean, what can I even say?” Lancelot asked, spreading his arms in frustration. “That I can’t sleep because that raided village reminded me too much of my own? That because of _one thing_ that happened when I was a child, I cannot function as an adult? It’s _frustrating_ , Merlin.”

As if to stress his words, Lancelot sat down on one of the benches, looking defeated. “At least only Leon saw me when I lost it completely”, he said, sighing in defeat.

Merlin frowned as Lancelot looked down on the floor, completely defeated. Sitting down next to his friend, Merlin bumped their shoulders together to show Lancelot some support. Exhaling, he looked straight ahead in order to give Lancelot some privacy with his feelings.

“Just so you know”, Merlin said, “Leon hasn’t said a word. No one thinks that you’re weak. Least of all me.”

Lancelot looked up at Merlin. “You know, you’re a damn good friend. Wish I’d had you growing up.”

Merlin grinned. “That’s what friends are for. And, you know, you did good asking for Gaius’ help. We wouldn’t have been able to get you to sleep otherwise. You’re too good at hiding your pain.”

“Then why do I feel so _damn_ useless?” Lancelot asked. Pursing his lips, he shook his head, looking back down at the floor.

Merlin took hold of Lancelot’s hand and was about to say something when the door opened, and Gaius walked in. For a moment, Gaius looked at the two, raising one eyebrow. It was almost as if he were asking Merlin what was going on. Not that Merlin could have answered.

“I’m sorry for being late”, Gaius said, “but there was an emergency. Little Morris is ill, and the carpenter wished I would check him up after lunch.”

“Is he alright?” Lancelot asked, eyes wide. “Should I go see him?”

Gaius chuckled. “Oh, he’s already doing better. He’s a strong boy. As for visiting him, you definitely should do so, Lancelot. The boy misses you terribly. In fact, when he heard that I would see you today, he asked me to give you this.”

Gaius placed a wooden figurine on Lancelot’s hand. It was painted in red and grey, reminding Lancelot of his cloak and chainmail. Little Morris had carved a Lancelot figurine out of wood, and although it was unpolished, Lancelot could see the skill in Morris’ handiwork.

“He said it was to thank you for finding him”, Gaius explained, smiling.

Lancelot nodded, feeling overwhelmed. “I must go see him when he’s feeling better.”

“You certainly should”, Gaius agreed, nodding. “Now, here is your potion. I made it quite strong, so you should dilute a few drops to a glass of water, or perhaps mead. Not wine, though; the potion may have bad side effects if you mix it with strong alcohol.”

Standing up, Lancelot nodded again. “Thank you, Gaius.”

“You’re welcome”, Gaius said, “and Lancelot? It was good of you to ask for help.”

Unsure of what to say, Lancelot tried to smile and waved Merlin and Gaius goodbye. Leaving the court physician’s chambers, Lancelot somehow felt better, as if something sour had been lifted off him. Perhaps it was the relief that he would finally be able to sleep again.

Rounding a corner, Lancelot ran into Gwaine and Percival. Being shorter than Gwaine and Percival together, Lancelot fell down from the impact. Luckily, he was carrying the little bottle containing his potion in a manner that shielded it when he fell.

“Oops”, Percival said apologetically, immediately leaning over to help Lancelot up. “Are you alright? Were you seeing Gaius?”

“I’m fine”, Lancelot muttered, “just needed a potion for sleeping.”

Gwaine frowned. Giving one look at Percival, he grabbed one of Lancelot’s arms while Percival took hold of the other. Together, they led Lancelot to an alcove where they could hide from curious eyes and ears.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” Gwaine asked, sounding worried. “For how long?”

Closing his eyes, Lancelot sighed. Why, oh, _why_ was Gwaine so perceptive? “Ever since the raided village”, Lancelot muttered, “you saw how I reacted there. It’s been bothering me ever since, and I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. I had to get the potion before it became dangerous.”

“That’s why you seemed so tired at practice yesterday”, Percival said, frowning. “Does Arthur know?”

Lancelot shook his head. “Only you two, and Gaius. And Merlin. I haven’t wanted the others to know of my weaknesses. You know how the city lives on gossip; if the wrong person heard about it, I would be the laughingstock of Camelot.”

Gwaine and Percival shared a look before shaking their heads. Was there something that Lancelot had missed?

“Whoever thinks that you’re weak for not being able to sleep is a fool”, Percival said matter-of-factly. “If they don’t know your struggles, they shouldn’t be allowed to criticise you.”

“What he said”, Gwaine agreed. “Strength isn’t measured by our limitations, but by the trust we place on others.”

Percival nodded. “Exactly. If anyone starts spreading nasty gossip about you, we’ll take care of that.”

Lancelot stayed silent. It warmed his heart to know that his friends cared enough to make sure that he wouldn’t be gossiped about. He’d known that Percival was kind, and he’d suspected the same of Gwaine, so it was nice to have proof.

“Thank you”, Lancelot breathed, “you know, I’m not great at asking for help, so thank you for offering it.”

“Well, someone has to make sure you get the help”, Gwaine said, winking. He then patted Lancelot’s shoulder and left the alcove, followed soon by Percival.

Lancelot felt a little bit dumbfounded, but happy nonetheless, as he made his way to his chambers. Gwaine was the kind of person who meant well but caused chaos in the way. Though, if it was Gwaine, Lancelot was ready for some chaos in the way.

As there was no more training that day, and Lancelot had no guard duties, he could rest before dinnertime. He didn’t, however, take the potion just yet, because he didn’t know what kind of an effect it would have on him. Missing dinner would be frowned upon. Especially since he’d been doing so poorly at the practice that morning. If he deviated from his usual behaviour much more, Arthur would notice.

After all, Lancelot was supposed to be _fine_.

Dinnertime came by, and Lancelot joined the others in the great hall. He didn’t participate in the discussion or pay much attention to what was going on, but even so, he noticed Gwaine talking with Leon and Elyan, side-eyeing Lancelot. Were they planning something, or were they worried? Lancelot decided he didn’t want to stick around to find out. No matter how much he liked the other knights, he didn’t want to be in the way of their chaos. It usually did not end well.

Deciding to kill some more time by reading – Merlin had taught him – Lancelot sat down by the desk in his room. He’d got a carafe of water from the kitchens for the time he’d need to go to sleep. He only hoped that his potion would work as planned.

After a while, someone knocked on the door. Wondering who it could be Lancelot went to open it. To his surprise, he was met by four knights – Elyan, Leon, Gwaine, and Percival – who stumbled inside.

“What –?” Lancelot asked, only to be shushed by Gwaine.

“You seemed sad during dinner”, Gwaine said. Lancelot could hear from his voice that he may have had a few glasses too many of wine. “We decided – hic – to cheer you up.”

“That, and to make sure he didn’t get to the tavern like this”, Leon explained apologetically. “We didn’t know where else to take him.”

By this point, Gwaine had claimed Lancelot’s only chair. “You know, Lance”, he said, “You always hide all of your problems from the rest of us. We – hic – we just want to help, you see? We don’t like it when you look all glum and sad. You want to keep the bad feelings to yourself, but it won’t work. At best you’ll turn to alcohol like I did, at worst you’ll start to hate yourself and end up cold and distant from others. We – hic – we don’t want that for you!”

The others nodded. Lancelot found himself sighing as he sat down on his bed. As the saying went, the truth was only told by children and drunks. The others always tried to be discreet, but Lancelot knew they worried.

“Fine”, Lancelot said eventually, “you win. I don’t think I deserve it, but since there’s four of you and only one of me, you win.”

“It’s not about deserving”, Elyan tried to explain, “it’s more about the fact that we don’t like seeing each other sad. I mean, wouldn’t you want to try to help if Percival or Leon were gloomy for weeks?”

“Exactly!” Gwaine slurred. “It’s about – hic – the _brotherhood_. If one of us is hurt, then all of us are hurt. Simple as that.”

Lancelot chuckled. “Then you’ll have to let us help you to stop drinking that much. Can’t be good for you to drown your sorrows in ale every evening.”

Gwaine groaned as everyone else laughed at him. Chatter filled the room. Percival placed two loaves of bread and some cheese on Lancelot’s desk – how had he hidden them? – and Leon sat on Lancelot’s bed, sighing.

“So, you want to help Gwaine, huh?” Leon asked quietly. “Quite the task you gave yourself. What was that about deserving, anyway?”

Lancelot exhaled. “I often think…I think I should have saved someone. Just anyone, really. Just drag one person where Lydia and I hid during the massacre. I feel like by saving no one, I abandoned my duty.”

Leon frowned. “You were a child, Lancelot. You couldn’t have –”

“I know”, Lancelot cut in, “I _know_ , Leon. I just…I can’t fight the guilt anymore. I can’t fight the feeling that I could have saved just one more person.”

“You need to talk about it to someone”, Leon whispered hastily, “you can’t keep it in forever. I’m sure Gaius could provide some advice. And if you don’t want to talk to him, I’m here. And the others too, I would imagine.”

Sighing, Lancelot leaned his head on Leon’s shoulder. “How do I say it?” he asked. “How do I tell everyone else that I failed my family?”

Leon placed his arm on Lancelot’s shoulder, allowing him to steer a bit closer. “You don’t have to say it all at once. Start from explaining how you feel at that moment.”

Closing his eyes, Lancelot exhaled. He knew that Leon was right but the thought of opening up to people…it almost felt like torture. Lancelot had never been one to talk much about what he felt. Only two people in the world – Merlin and Percival – had been privy to what Lancelot felt. How would he even ask the others to listen to his worries to begin with?

“Just start with little steps”, Leon said, as if he’d heard Lancelot’s thoughts. “Little steps. First, you’ll have to learn to trust others. Let us catch you when you fall.”

Still keeping his eyes closed, Lancelot nodded. With Leon around, he would surely learn how to trust others with his worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and thoughts are much appreciated, once given


End file.
